


Ancient History, Modern Times

by miraculousghostspider



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, There is crack, apollo kid clint barton, barely but it's there, cause percy showed up in the middle of a fight, from me at least, i dove back into the pjo fandom and i couldn't escape without writing something, i just thought y'all might like it anyway cause you're weird like that, i know it's bad don't judge me, i think, i'm not speaking for you guys, idk i'm not a good judge of these things, idk what this is, like an avengers fight, no judgement here promise, percy and clint hang out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraculousghostspider/pseuds/miraculousghostspider
Summary: Clint was the first one to notice the kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, wearing an old blue hoodie over a faded orange shirt and sitting cross-legged on a bench in Central Park eating a sandwich.  All normal things for teenage boys to be doing.  He shook his head and brushed black hair out of his face as he took another bite, completely unconcerned.Meanwhile, Thor flew two feet in front of him at the speed of sound as a giant robot flung him away from the fight happening literally right in front of the bench.Or: Percy Jackson meets Clint Barton because he's doing things he shouldn't be doing. As usual.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Percy Jackson, Clint Barton & Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 687





	Ancient History, Modern Times

**Author's Note:**

> My first venture into the Percy Jackson and it's this.  
> I have several regrets.  
> As for if I'll be writing more Percy Jackson in the future... we'll see. I haven't read Trials of Apollo and I know very little about Clint Barton's character despite how much I love him, so cut me a little slack if this is incorrect somehow.  
> Enjoy!

Clint was the first one to notice the kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, wearing an old blue hoodie over a faded orange shirt and sitting cross-legged on a bench in Central Park eating a sandwich. All normal things for teenage boys to be doing. Especially on a sunny Saturday in April. He shook his head and brushed black hair out of his face as he took another bite, completely unconcerned.

Meanwhile, Thor flew two feet in front of him at the speed of sound as a giant robot flung him away from the fight happening literally right in front of the bench.

“What are you doing here?” Clint asked after he’d circled around and came up behind the kid. “This is a literal battle zone. We evacuated civilians hours ago. How are you here?”

The kid jumped at his sudden appearance, before shrugging. “Looked interesting.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “Cookie?” He held up a cookie from a small container beside him on the bench, what would have been a regular chocolate chip had it not been blue.

Clint eyed him warily. He had kids, he knew better than to trust strange-looking foods handed to him.

“Dude, it’s not poisoned or anything.” Proving his point, the kid took a big bite out of it and grabbed another for Clint, who accepted it (against his better judgment).

“Shouldn’t you get out of here?” Clint asked, popping half the cookie in his mouth and holding it there with his teeth as he fired an explosive arrow directly into one of the smaller robots flying around, the thing bursting apart into millions of pieces.

“Ehh,” the kid said half-heartedly, as though Clint had asked him whether he preferred Coke or Pepsi and he didn’t really have an opinion. “I’m good.”

“You should really get out of here,” he rephrased himself.

“I could,” the kid said, “You guys look like you don’t need any help.”

“What’s your name?” Clint asked, trying to ignore whatever the hell that meant.

The kid cracked a grin, and Clint finally noticed how his eyes, which he’d previously labeled as green, had a hint of blue, making it more of a sea-green color. It was a color he’d never seen in someone’s eyes before, and it made him seem… different, somehow.

“Percy,” he said, punctuating it by finishing off his sandwich. “What’s yours?”

“You’re joking, right?” Clint deadpanned, gesturing to his obvious superhero attire.

Percy shrugged. “You’re Hawkeye, duh, but I don’t know your civilian name. I’ve never really stayed caught up in what’s going on in the world.”

“Clint,” he said automatically, baffled at the thought of a  _ teenager _ who didn’t care about literal real-life  _ superheroes. _

_ “Clint, what the hell are you doing?”  _ Steve asked through the comms.

_ “Language!”  _ at least four other people echoed. (Clint could practically  _ hear _ Steve roll his eyes.)

“Talking to some kid,” he responded, not breaking eye contact with Percy, who glanced at the comm.

“I thought there might be other people listening,” he commented, seeming unimpressed. “Can you turn them off?”

“Yeah?” Clint said, warily pressing the button on his comms that made it so he could hear them but they couldn’t hear him. “There. What’s up, kid?” Maybe it was the dad in him, but he could tell Percy had a question, and he wanted to answer it if he could.

“You’re an Apollo kid, aren’t you?” Percy asked, and Clint’s breath left his lungs. He chuckled and cracked a smile, taking a seat on the bench beside him and grabbing another cookie. “Should’ve known you were a demigod. Yeah, I am. How’s camp doing? I haven’t been back in  _ years.” _ How had he missed the Camp Half-Blood shirt? Yeah, it was near impossible to make out the letters with how worn it was, but he’d seen (and worn) a million of them.

“Pretty good,” Percy shrugged. “Recovering from the second war in just as many years, but we’re good, all things considered. You know how demigods aren’t supposed to go to San Francisco? That’s because that’s where the Roman demigods live.”

Clint dropped his cookie. “There was a  _ war? _ There were  _ two _ wars? Wait, there are Roman gods, too?”

Percy nodded. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Figured it out ‘cause Hera wiped my memory, stuck me in a coma for eight months, and then dropped me there to go on a quest, swapping me with one of the leaders of their Camp, a son of Jupiter—that’s, um, Zeus’ Roman form—named Jason Grace. He’s Thalia’s sister if you know who that is.”

“The tree,” Clint nodded. “Yeah, I stopped by camp six or seven years back. Her friend Luke wasn’t a very good archer, but he seemed like a good kid.”

“Oh Thalia’s fine now, she’s a hunter of Artemis. And Luke turned out to be evil and freed Kronos and died when he turned on Kronos and basically saved the world. You know, normal stuff.”

“Thalia—the Great Prophecy?”

“Oh no, she became a Hunter and also immortal on the day before her sixteenth birthday, which was basically a big “Fuck you” to me, who ended up having to be the one to deal with that. I’m a son of Poseidon, by the way.”

Clint blinked in shock. “Wait wait wait, so Hades is the  _ only one _ of the Big Three who didn’t break the oath?”

“Yeah, pretty much. But he’s got two kids who are pulled from time—one named Nico Di Angelo from the 1940s who was in the Lotus Hotel for all that time and one who died and then Nico brought back when Thanatos was kidnapped who’s Roman named Hazel Levesque.”

“Thanatos was—I don’t even want to ask. Is Annabeth okay or did she follow Luke? She was super sweet and totally badass when I met her.”

Percy smiled dopily. “Yeah, that sounds like her. She’s totally fine. She’s my girlfriend. She got to redesign Olympus after it was destroyed during the Second Titan War.”

_ “Clint I swear to god get off that bench and come help or I’m gonna shoot that kid,”  _ Natasha snapped into the comms.

Clint winced. “I should go help them.”

Percy chuckled. “Right. IM me later if you want to know more.”

Clint paused. “You should go. I don’t know how to explain letting a teenager stay in a literal battle zone to the others.”

Percy nodded. “Okay.” Then he whistled a sharp, New Yorker whistle.

“What are you—?” He hissed a curse under his breath as a hellhound appeared, but Percy jumped up and called to it cheerfully.

“This is Mrs. O’Leary,” Percy told him, petting the hellhound.

“I hate teenagers,” Clint said as the kid disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

“Too bad you already have children then,” Natasha said, appearing from literally out of nowhere. Clint glanced around to see where she may have come from, but couldn’t find anything.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling out an arrow. “That was a fucking conversation and now I have to let out some misplaced aggression.”

“Oh, we’re done,” Natasha said airily. Clint looked up to see that, indeed, all the robots were no more than broken parts now.

“You’re already— _ Tasha,” _ he whined. She gave him the middle finger.

“I hate teenagers,” he repeated.

Tony snorted. “Tell me about it.”

Clint nodded, then paused and gave him a weird look. “Wait, what the fuck would  _ you _ know?”

(He met Tony’s intern three weeks later and all confusion vanished from his mind.)

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized I posted this without attaching any notes so... oops.  
> This popped into my head cause I was thinking about Percy Jackson for the first time in a while, and I had to write it down. I'm kind of considering making it a 5 +1, but if I do it'll just be something I update when I'm bored and have the energy and motivation to write another chapter because I have nothing else written for this. Also it'll be like 40% crack, so be warned.  
> Either way, I hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day. Kudos and comments make my day :)


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